


Professional Orphan

by DolleyAntoinette



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: AU in which Celica was raised royally, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Daddy Issues, Emotional/Convert Incest, F/M, Family Issues, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hedonism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Replacement of the dead, don't worry though it's not as bad as it sounds, incest themes, or maybe it is don't ask me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 03:57:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21349861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DolleyAntoinette/pseuds/DolleyAntoinette
Summary: "His life was a comfortingly empty one and he liked that."Following the years of his beloved Liprica's death, King Lima grew older and so did his daughter. He never paid much mind to the girl, perhaps intentionally avoiding her presence or perhaps not, and yet after a horrible realisation of how the years slipped by so quickly Lima finally decides to make himself welcome into Anthiese's life.Alternatively - Lima takes notice that Anthiese's resemblance to her mother is uncanny.
Relationships: Alm/Anthiese | Celica, Anthiese | Celica & Rima Yonsei | Lima IV
Comments: 9
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

The moment Princess Anthiese was born, it seemed all anyone ever cared to talk about was the supposedly blessed princess. Countless advisors, nobles, servants even had the nerve to approach the teenaged king and make some form of comment about ‘_oh, how beautiful she is_,’ how she was ‘_destined for greatness_’, and every single day there was always at least one damn blessing to the newborn princess.

King Lima's stomach would tie into a knot at every syllable he heard spoken about his daughter. It was always about her. Anthiese this, Anthiese that. He would have grown to hate that name if it weren't for the fact Liprica was the one to choose it.

_Beautiful, beautiful Liprica._

Liprica's life blew away before his eyes for that brat. And yet she still held the infant so tenderly in those few days she knew her daughter. Her eyes would flicker down to look at her child and a smile would tug at her lips, softly cooing comforting words Anthiese wouldn’t even recognise, let alone deserved to hear. _How could she find it in her to love something that she knew was the reason her life would be cut short?_

Anthiese's life meant Liprica's death.

Lima would spend his nights alone in his bed, his eyes closed as he held his hands out in front of him, trying to picture Liprica's face. His fingers running through the air as if they were tracing her features, his mind and senses trying to remake the ever-fading image of Liprica and hold onto her memory whilst her body was still freshly buried. His sunken cheeks wet as he tried desperately to just pretend she was still there, whilst the screaming echoes of Zofia's sweetheart could be heard distantly from the royal nursery: killing his fantasy just as she had killed her mother.

As moons came and seasons passed, Lima began to lose track of his nightly rituals of pretending his late queen was still with him. His life got in the way of her death and whether his absence of useless dreaming was because of some foxy dancer who caught his eye or a night of indulging in the pleasures of partying, soon enough he was fine again. Anthiese was sent off to his other children and their mothers, the bed began to feel less cold when he could share it with as many women as he pleased, and the raw pain of her absence could be tamed with antique wines and intoxicating powders.

His life was a comfortingly empty one and he liked that.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the anniversary of Princess Anthiese's survival, a grand ball is held in her honour. The dear princess is late (not to many people's notice seemingly), and little does she know of how her fashionably-late scurry to the ballroom is going to change her relationship with her father forever.

Drinks were flowing, conversations were loud, and attractive maids were serving Zofian delicacies on silver platters. That’s all that Lima needed to know about his party.

The almost skeletal frame of King Lima IV, in the flesh, strolled through the mingling guests. Perhaps years ago it would have been considered a rare sight to behold; the crowned king himself, so carelessly walking among the hundreds of guests as if he wasn’t putting himself at risk among them. Yet after three decades of the same parties with the same people, Lima grew to be either reckless or careless and no one even gave him a second glance by this point.

Crowds had seemingly already made themselves into various cliques among the marble ballroom. The shimmer of a woman’s jewellery caught in the light of the chandeliers, alongside the bubbles twirling to the top of the golden liquid being held prisoner by the delicate glass in her gloved hands, directing the king’s attention towards her.  
A full-figured golden-blonde dressed in an emerald ensemble, the king internally noted there being nothing too remarkable about her appearance, but that she was not ugly either. Fine for a night, but nothing special enough to do much else with.

The blonde chattered among her little circle, consisting of mostly women in various colours of dress, alongside a man he presumed to be her husband.

“Oh goodness,” The blonde chirped out, waving a fan against her cheeks to cool her flushed face. “Do remind me again, what is this party even for?”

A petite brunette -much more of Lima’s type- spoke up, screwing her face in concentration before opening her painted lips. “I believe it’s the celebration of the Zofian festi-”

“No, no! That was last week.” The blonde cut her off, rolling her eyes.

“Is it not the anniversary of Princess Anthiese’s survival?” The husband speaks up, “Ten years ago, in fact, I believe it was that Sir Mycen saved her from the burning villa.”

“Oh of course!” Another lady confirmed, “Goodness though, was it really that long ago? Time has certainly slipped us by, I remember…”

The woman’s voice drowned out in Lima’s head, he heard all he cares to know.

It was little Anthiese’s not-birthday, which is still a good enough a reason to up the taxes for another party. He shrugged to himself at the thought, his sunken eyes lazily glossing around the room for something tall to drink and someone pretty to mingle with before one of his retainers will inevitably drag him off to do whatever speech or greet whoever or whatever it is he’s supposed to do.

For now; drinks are flowing and bosoms were over-spilling.

* * *

It would naturally be presumed that within a building as large and carefully constructed as Zofia palace that no matter how loud the volume coming from practically only one room that it wouldn’t be audible from the private chambers of her highness, whether it be by some form of soundproofing or just the sheer size of the palace dimming out the echoes of music and banter and so on, and yet it seems any sort of presumption of that being the case was incorrect.

The faint blur of an orchestra's melody blended with the unintelligible sound of guests chatter had lingered in the otherwise near-silent air of Anthiese’s quarters, underwhelmingly present and despite the dimmed volume, it had made itself a welcome guest in her company.

With no sound but her faint company of a sorry-excuse for music, Anthiese had found herself counting to eight in her head, her pink lips silently ensembling themselves alongside her concentrated counts, her feet accompanying her body’s collective work as she dances herself around the room. Her stocking-clad feet perched up on her toes as they delicately, yet confidently stride her around the carpeted floor.

Graceful and poised, Anthiese with her soft yet controlled movements, in collaboration with her petite frame, could easily pass for a professional dancer working in the royal opera, _or perhaps for a man like her father’s entertainment_, if it was not for her face screwed up in concentration, lacking the confidence her body expressed.

“And a one, and a two… And a- _Ugh_!”

With an audible thud, that graceful and poised princess was on the floor, her petticoats flared out among her legs and her curls hanging over her face. With a small huff of embarrassment, mirrored by her rose-dusted cheeks, Anthiese pushed herself up, dusting her undergarments off and fixing her loose hairs.

_-Perhaps stockings on wooden floors wasn't the wisest of decisions.-_

With a deep exhale, she placed her dainty hands on her waist, stretching back her shoulders, Anthiese sighed. “Oh, Duchess…” She whined, dropping herself onto her plush bed and darting her eyes towards a slumbering cat that had made itself quite comfortable among the sheets of silk and feather-stuffed pillows. “How I envy you right now. It seems as though it’s been party after party after party these days, and yet they just go nowhere. Father just gets drunk, everyone dances, and I just stand there and do nothing all night. It’s ridiculous. All I want is just to go a full week without having to-”

“Princess Anthiese? Are you still in here?” An older woman’s voice, who Anthiese recognised belonging to her tutor, called out from outside the door, nipping her dramatic monologue in the bud. “This party is being held in your honour, do you have any plans to be attending?”

“Yes! Yes!” Anthiese responded, calling out and standing up from her bed, “Just give me a moment, I’m not decent yet!”

“Very well then, your highness. But please, you know it is most unfitting for you to arrive too late to your ball, I do hope for you to hurry yourself up.”

“Of course, Madame.”

Anthiese waited until the muffled footsteps that followed were out of earshot until she let out another groan, before finally taking her steps towards the garment hung up upon the handle of her closet, her hands delicately stroking the ivory silk as she slipped the dress from its hanger and gathered it to the hem, tugging it over her form and slipping it over her body.

As she dressed, the princess could not help but feel a heavy dread in her stomach as the dress took to her form almost too perfectly, clinging against her body and reacting to her underskirts in just the right way. The way the beading subtly shone among the light drew modest attention to her porcelain throat only contributed to the odd sinking feeling against her belly. “Oh, Mila…” She whispered a prayer, her eyes closing as her fingers sunk the buttons into their assigned loops. “Why do I feel this way? What is wrong with me?”

Anthiese’s questions received no answer. In response to the screaming silence, she just opened her eyes instead. Amber pupils scanning her reflection in the mirror up and down a few times, before shaking her head. “Get yourself together, Anthiese.” She sternly whispers, stepping into her heeled shoes, and gathering her skirts, exhaling dramatically once again, she spun on her toes and made her way over to the large oak door, mentally preparing herself for the long night to come.

* * *

Casually leant against the wall, it was almost as if Lima was trying to give the impression that he was some kind of young stud (not that he looked anything of the part with his sunken features and skeletal frame) the king ran a bony hand through his red mop, before lamely fanning his face. "Mother Mila, it's too damn hot in there..." he complained aloud to no one in particular, before rubbing his eye with the pads of his fingers, lazily lifting his head and scanning the lavish corridor he had ran off to.

Alone in the open like this, the king made himself vulnerable to any kind of attack, and Mila knows that he would lose in any fight brought upon him, but it had killed him yet, and he would be damned if he spent another moment in that overheating excuse for a ballroom.

With closed eyes and a bowing head, the king took a moment to allow the moment to sink in. The subtle buzz of his drink comforting his mind as the cool air hit against his flushed face, the music and chatter still so loud, yet soft enough so he could at least hear himself think. This was nice.

The gentle pitta-patter of a pair of feet scurrying across the floor caused the king to open his eyes, yet he was certainly not distressed nor irritated by the sound. Looking over his shoulder, his eyes began to follow the movements of a young lady, who he recognised as his daughter.

Her scarlet curls, which took his colour yet still looked so much more vibrant and alive against her flesh than his did against the dull undertone of his skin, had a subtle bounce to each movement, always collapsing against the porcelain of her shoulders (subtly freckled much like her cheeks) displayed by the off-shoulder number she was wearing, beaded at the chest, yet classily left untouched by nothing but darts and seams. Pretty. He had to resist a pathetic smirk, it’s a shame she had to be his daughter, if she weren’t he might have even asked her to accompany him to his cham-

Lima suddenly blinked twice as he could have sworn he felt his heart stop for a moment, his deep-set eyes widening as they slowly dared to look up and down the dress that just moments again he regarded as being_ pretty_, each step she took closer towards him revealing more and more of the garment’s details as he felt his hands begin to shake.

She walked past him. Giving him a simple nod as a greeting, a quiet “Father.” alongside it.

He was left watching her continue to walk past as his eyes examined the back of her dress. The long train dragging across the floor, embroidered with some kind of floral pattern. The back incredibly low, exposing the graceful curve of her spine to all that she walked past.

His lips parted, taking a few shaky inhales, followed by even more shaky exhales.

She was wearing _her_ dress.

_She_ was wearing _her_ dress.

_She was wearing her dress._

And in his moment of shock and horror, all Lima’s body would allow himself to do was to whisper.

“_Lipricia…_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first real chapter of Professional Orphan! I really hope you'll stick around and see what's to come next!
> 
> In true Dolley Antoinette fashion, you can expect a brooding and awkwardly-written story about uncomfortable topics to come forwards! I'm not the best of writers, however I would love to improve my skills, and whilst I know this chapter is rather short, I do hope for future chapters to grow longer with any writing improvements and practice! I really struggled with writing the delivery of this chapter, so any advice in that regards is deeply appreciated as that is certainly one of my weak spots!
> 
> Please feel free to share any thoughts or comments! I appericate any advice, opinions, etc. so don't be shy to share anything at all!

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU I have been working on for a while now! I've had lots of different ideas for this kind of story, so I'm excited to finally be writing it up! I've got so many plans and thoughts for the future of this fic, so I really hope I get to write up more often for it!
> 
> There are going to be some much darker themes in later chapters (I will clear up now that although themes of incest and whatnot are going to be pretty heavy throughout this, as of right now, I really don't have any plans for physical incest to actually be taking place.), so I'll be tagging anything potentially triggering in the notes before any of those chapters.
> 
> It's really been such a long time since I've properly written, so I really hope I can learn and really get to progress the story of all my ideas and concepts along the way! I really hope you'll stick around and see all that I've got planned!


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